


Right Next To You

by Idishi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amortentia, Ficlet, M/M, One-Shot, Post-War, Potions, eighth year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5051089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idishi/pseuds/Idishi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Slughorn has decided to teach the Eighth Years how to brew Amortentia, unwittingly causing a Slytherin and a Gryffindor to learn much more about what they want than they had ever expected from a Potions class.</p><p>Post-war Era, mostly Canon-compliant except for the Drarry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Next To You

**Author's Note:**

> All characters from the Harry Potter universe are the creations and property of JK Rowling as well as the current publishers of the material. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit earned.
> 
> This was written for my co-Drarry Shippers, **Catarina Black** , **Noora Varrio** and **Aurelia Lanel** :)
> 
> Now available in **Chinese** thanks to [LilyYee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyYee/), click [here](http://lilyyee322.lofter.com/post/1d82379e_9039aaa) to read it :)

 

 

              “Alright, alright. Settle down, everyone.”

              Horace Slughorn’s wheezy voice broke the tumult among the students gathered in the dungeons, and the Slytherins and Gryffindors dispiritedly sank into their chairs. Draco, desperate to have the professor’s attention, immediately schooled his expression into that of interest.

              “Today, you will be making your first attempt at brewing Amortentia.”

              At the old man’s words, the class erupted into whispers. Draco himself sat up even straighter. He knew that it was a very complex potion to brew, but practicing on his own potions kit at home had helped him to improve over the summer. He had decided that a low profile was best, given the mess that he and his family had been after the war, but trials aside, he saw his return to Hogwarts as an opportunity to show that he was more than his Father’s shadow.

              Draco stole a glance across the room. The Chosen One was slumped onto his work table, not even pretending to feign interest like Draco was. The Mudblood and the Weasel were having some sort of conversation over him. Potter was obviously not listening to a single word, his eyes focused on their walrus-like teacher, whose voice once again took away Draco’s attention.

              With a wave of the man’s wand, the full list of ingredients appeared on one of the boards. “This will be an introductory practice session, and will not be marked. We will, however, have an evaluation of your progress at the end of class. Turn to page 130 for the recipe, and mind you follow the directions carefully. Remember,” the professor gave a little chuckle, “despite what some may say, Love Potions can be considered the trickiest and most dangerous of all. You’d best remember that. Now, off you go! Chop chop!”

              Granger, being the usual know-it-all she was, was asking the teacher more questions about the potion. Draco rolled his eyes and stood up to fetch his ingredients from the storeroom in the back, wanting to get ahead. He was looking forward to showing everyone up when he finally presented his perfectly brewed Amortentia on his first attempt.

 

***

 

              Harry’s head was filled with a buzzing that morning. He wasn’t at all interested in potions, but with Snape gone, he figured that he might as well work for a N.E.W.T. in the class to help him get into the Auror department. He was generally uninterested in what Slughorn had to teach, but that didn’t mean that he completely slacked off. In fact, when the old walrus had announced that they were making Amortentia, Harry’s curiosity was piqued and he sat up just a little straighter. Though he no longer had the Half-Blood Prince’s book, he had made notes using Snape’s advice back when Amortentia was first discussed in the sixth year. While it had all been theoretical, Snape’s additional citations in the margins had given Harry a much better understanding of the love potion, which made him feel extra confident today.

              “C’mon,” he told Ron, pulling the redhead up from his chair and dragging him to the storeroom.

              As they collected the right amount of ingredients, Harry’s eye fell on the blonde next to him. Malfoy, who had been reaching for an additional jar of powdered unicorn horn, merely glanced at him, then ignored him as he gathered the rest of his jars and left the storeroom. Harry shrugged his shoulders, then continued to collect his own set of ingredients. There was no reason for him and Malfoy to fight anymore, but their unspoken truce made him uncomfortable sometimes. He would have preferred if they continued to hex each other’s bits off. With a quiet laugh, he realized how surreal it was for him to want to go on being enemies with the Slytherin Prince. After Voldemort, he just wanted things back the way they were, and Malfoy was unwittingly part of that constant in Harry’s life.

              He took all of his materials back to his work table and began to work on his potion. Ron and Hermione hadn’t been as intrusive anymore after the war, having figured out that Harry just wanted peace and quiet. This allowed Harry much more time to focus on his own work, without distractions. Leafing through his old notes, he found the sheets on Amortentia and began to chop the Angel’s Breath. He was confident that despite the complexity, he would be able to ace this potion on his first try.

 

***

 

              “Well, well, well, how remarkable!” Slughorn announced, obviously giddy. “Five of you have managed to create fully acceptable batches of Amortentia, and on your first go! Now, kindly leave a vial of your potion at my desk. We will be comparing these samples with your next attempt next week. In the meantime, I’d like you all to read the following chapters...”

              Around the classroom, Draco observed the rest of his year as they slumped back into their seats dejectedly. He couldn’t help but smirk. Only he and Blaise had managed to make the potion. From the Gryffindors, only Potter, Granger and Thomas had done so.

              Using a slender ladle, Draco transferred some of his Amortentia into a glass vial. As the liquid poured into the receptacle, he couldn’t help but inhale the wonderful aroma. He knew, of course, that the potion was supposed to smell unique to everyone, and that it would be reminiscent of whatever one loved the most. As he stoppered his vial, he bent over the cauldron and took in another breath of pink vapor. In a heartbeat, he thought of Christmas at the Manor when he smelled fresh pine. Another breath smelled of something that reminded him of his mother’s perfume. A third breath brought to mind a strange scent, familiar and yet unrecognizable.

              It was only after he had deposited his vial into Slughorn’s desk, cleared up his station and walked out with Pansy and Blaise that he absentmindedly identified the smell as broom polish and sweat.

 

***

 

              “I’m so proud of you, Harry,” Hermione was saying during dinner. “Professor Slughorn was really impressed.”

              “Thanks, Mione,” Harry mumbled in response.

              Ron grumbled as he bit into his chicken leg. His potions had been on the right track, but he had worked too slow and thus hadn’t come up with a completed brew. His scowl disappeared slightly, however, when his girlfriend pointed this out as well. Soon, he was back to his jovial (and hungry) self.

              “So did you get a whiff of your potions, then?” he asked, obviously curious.

              Hermione shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, taking a bite of her potato salad. “Much the same, to be honest.” If her blush was any indication, Harry knew that he didn’t want to hear the rest of it so he added in his two Knuts to the conversation.

              “Mine was the same as well, for the most part” he said. He knew that he had successfully made Amortentia when he could identify the telltale scents of treacle tart, the woody smell of his Firebolt, and that third smell that had always eluded him. He had once thought it was associated with Ginny, but he realized that her perfume had not been as citrusy. He had never really given any thought until now, but it didn’t really bother him. He had been more preoccupied with making sure the potion was perfect, after all.

              “I wish I could have smelled mine,” Ron said wistfully.

              “Doesn’t matter that you didn’t,” Harry pointed out. “You would’ve just smelled chicken.”

              Ron snorted. “Yeah, probably. I do love chicken, don’t I?”

              The trio all burst out laughing at the absurdity, which caused Harry to forget all about his potion.

 

***

             The Slytherins had just lost another game to the Gryffindors, which put them in third place. With a scowl, Draco trudged up to the changing rooms. The faster he could get out of his Quidditch gear, the sooner he could go back up to his dormitory and vent.

              Stupid Potter. Just can’t miss the Snitch, can he? Stupid show-off.

              He quickly showered away the mud and grime, thankful that he had come here directly after the game, which meant his teammates were still at the pitch. He absolutely despised having to share the locker rooms with anyone, not even the other Slytherins. With Hogwarts being such a large castle with sprawling grounds, it baffled him that the school couldn’t afford to add more bathrooms. Merlin be damned, it was probably to do with team spirit or camaraderie, or other such nonsense.

              Now feeling better after the shower, Draco shrunk away his toiletries, took his Quidditch bag and made for the castle. His pride was immediately wounded when someone literally ran into him as he was about to step out of the locker room.

              “What the- watch where you’re going!” he shouted angrily as he magicked his fallen belongings back into his arms and turned toward his assailant. He was surprised to come face-to-face with-

              “Potter!”

              “Sorry! I wasn’t looking-“

              “Of course you weren’t!” Draco accused, looking him up and down, noticing with annoyance that the Gryffindor was still covered in mud and holding his broomstick. “Nothing matters to you, not even people just minding their own business-“

              “What’s that?” Potter said suddenly.

 

***

 

              Harry couldn’t help but ask out loud. It seemed like his brain had shut down of its own accord.

              “What?” Malfoy stared at him, dumbfounded. “What’s what?” The blonde’s diatribe was obviously forgotten when Harry’s question had distracted him.

              “That. That smell… it’s like…”

              Harry could see the confusion on Malfoy’s face. “Stop wasting my time, Potter,” the Slytherin spat out scathingly, moving to walk around Harry and up to the castle. However, the movement brought another whiff of the scent, and Harry was absolutely sure that it had something to do with the blonde.

              “Seriously, it’s that smell!” he cried, looking confused himself. Completely ignoring the scandalized look on Malfoy’s face, Harry kept sniffing, following his nose until the scent became stronger. He looked into Malfoy’s arms and found it. “Your soap!”

              Malfoy looked down and then back up at him. “Are you daft, Potter?” he demanded. “What are you on about?”

              “Your soap,” Harry insisted, not even caring how strange he must be acting. The smell had completely taken control of him. “It’s got that flowery citrusy smell…”

              He observed as Malfoy took another look at the offending object. “It’s just soap, Potter,” he said with a slight sneer. “don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it before?”

              “Oh, shut it,” Harry said. “What’s it made of though?” He couldn’t help it, he had to know.

              “I’ve been brewing it since I began at Hogwarts,” said the blonde, now obviously smirking. “It’s just a bit of lemongrass. I’m starting to think you’ve never had a decent shower in your life, Potter.”

              Harry was still deep in thought that he missed the insult. Lemongrass. Now he knew what that other smell was, and it was definitely not Ginny’s perfume. The soap didn’t have the same musky scent that the Amortentia had, but it was practically the same. He felt relieved that he now at least had a name for the mysterious scent.

              “Er,” he muttered. “Thanks for telling me, Malfoy.”

             

***

 

              Once again, Draco felt out of sorts. He had just hurled an insult at Potter, yet the usually brash Gryffindor hadn’t even been listening, and had thanked him instead. He shook his confusion out of his head. He needed to get out of this situation, ASAP.

              “Whatever, Potter,” he huffed. “Go take your newfound knowledge of soap and take a bath.”

              Potter rolled his eyes. “I was about to, thanks.” The brunette made to step around Draco, but this time it was the blonde whose brain shut down.

              “What-“ he gasped, both in sudden recognition and utter confusion at the same time.

              “What now, Malfoy?” Potter almost whined. “Go your own way and I’ll go mine.”

              Draco tentatively took in a deep breath, aware of how strange he might now be acting. But he couldn’t get it out of his head. It was that smell!

              His eyes dropped to the Firebolt in Potter’s hand. It was obviously newly polished, the wood gleaming in the late afternoon sun.

              His eyes went up to the black hair, dripping with perspiration from the intense Quidditch game.

              “No fucking way,” Draco managed to say.

              It was almost a whisper, but Potter had obviously heard it. “What is it?” he asked, looking worried.

              Draco’s brain was now working double time. But it couldn’t be! No! No fucking way that Fate could be that cruel of a bitch! “Why did you ask me about the Lemongrass, Potter?” Draco’s voice was a bit hoarse, and he cleared his throat. “Why did you notice my soap, of all things?”

 

***

 

              “Er…” Harry was shocked by the sudden question, and he was unsure if he should answer or not. However, Malfoy’s suddenly strange behavior made him want to be truthful. “Er, actually,” he answered quietly, “it was just something that’s been bothering me. It was a scent I recognized from when I first smelled Amortentia last year. I couldn't figure out what it was before, but now I have, so thanks.”

              Malfoy seemed at a loss for words. Harry could feel his face burning with embarrassment, so he tried to turn the tables. “Why do you need to know?” he asked, almost like a challenge.

              Malfoy let out a hollow laugh. “I’m guessing you use Fleetwood’s for your Firebolt?”

              Harry was taken aback with the randomness of Malfoy’s questions. “Yeah, I’ve been using it since third year. But what has that got to do with-“

              “This is just unbelievable!!”

              “What is it! Just spit it out!” Harry couldn’t follow where the blonde was going, and he really wanted that shower badly. Their teammates would likely be on the way to the locker rooms already and he wanted to squeeze in a quick one with no one around.

              “Look, Potter,” the blonde suddenly said, speaking more sternly now, his eyes pools of quicksilver that burned into Harry’s. “There’s something about my Amortentia that’s- when I smell it, I smell-“

              “What?” Potter asked impatiently.

              “You.”

 

***

 

              Draco looked straight into Potter’s emerald eyes. He knew in his heart that this whole encounter meant something bigger than the two of them. It was too much of a coincidence.

              “Do you get it, Potter?” he asked, his voice low and soft. When the brunette just stared at him, he sighed. “My lemongrass soap. It’s what you smell from Amortentia?”

              “Er, not exactly, no.”

              Draco felt his face fall, but then schooled his expression instantly. He missed the sudden change of expression on Potter’s face as he seemed to realize something.

              “Actually,” the Gryffindor said quietly, moving in to step closer to Draco, “the lemongrass was just one thing. But now,” he invaded Draco’s personal space and took in a deep breath while closing his eyes. “Now, I can smell exactly what I smell from Amortentia.”

              Draco’s face heated up, and he knew that his cheeks were probably turning pink from the sudden and unexpected turn of events. Potter hadn’t been as slow as he had thought.

             

***

 

              “What about you?” Harry asked, unable to hide the seductive tone in his voice. When he smelled the musky scent of Malfoy's skin, things suddenly clicked into place in his mind, and he instantly understood where this could be going. “What does Amortentia smell like for you, Malfoy?”

              The blonde seemed to grow more defiant, his stormy eyes sparkling in response to the unspoken challenge that Harry threw against him. In a second, Malfoy had invaded Harry’s personal space, and whispered into his ear. “For me, Potter,” he said, “the love potion smells just like you, right after a Quidditch game.” This time, it was Malfoy who took in a breath as if to take in all of Harry. “Definitely you,” he added with a smirk.

              “Is that so?” Harry was no longer surprised at the answer, but completely shocked at what they were both doing. This was so absofuckinglutely unexpected, but now that he thought about it, he would have it no other way.

              Malfoy moved away from Harry, but only to look him in the eye again. Harry could almost see the gears working behind those grey eyes.

              “I think we have a lot to talk about, don’t you think?” the blonde said, the ghost of a smile on his face.

              “Looks like several years’ worth of talking, actually,” said Harry, smiling now as well.

              As if on cue, both of them heard the approach of their teammates, and they both stepped away from each other, though still looking at one another as if for the first time.

              Harry realized that they were running out of time, so he dove head-first, as only a Gryffindor would. “I know a place we can talk.”

              Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Is it on the seventh floor?”

              Harry couldn’t help but grin this time. “You read my mind. It's the perfect place, it'll be exactly what we need."

              "I think," Malfoy whispered, taking Harry's hand, "I think we've already found exactly what we need."

 

             


End file.
